“I do know. At least—I mean—but of course, I oughtn't to be here with you.”
“According to convention you oughtn't. Yet—”
“I'm not thinking of conventions. But—oh, I should hate you to misunderstand!”
“I could never misunderstand.”
I snatched off my mask and stood looking down at her, knowing that my face would say what was in my heart, and not now wishing to hide the secret.
“You know,” I said, “that I've worshipped you since the first moment I saw you. It was impossible to meet you in any ordinary way, for you have no friend who would introduce to you the Marqués de Casa Triana. Have you ever heard that name before, Lady Monica?”
“Yes,” she answered frankly. “I heard it yesterday. From Angèle de la Mole.”
“Her brother's a friend of my best friend.”
“I know.”
“If it hadn't been for him, I should have had great trouble in getting here to-night. Yet I would have come. Did Mademoiselle de la Mole tell you that I loved you?”